Delight for the Soul

Selecting Your Silence

1/20/2018

Dear Friends,

You haven't heard from me in a while. There is a lot of noise coming at us. And new media channels suggest that we always need to be seen and heard. Sometimes these channels add important momentum to our collective voice. Often they amplify what should be muted.

I imagine you've also had times when words feel like an unnecessary label you choose not to slap onto your experience.

Others may observe you as quiet in these times, yet it can be loud on the inside, when your silence is rooted in fear, desire, discontent, or shame. A perfect setup for the writer to write. It's been the seed for many of my blog posts.

My silence is different this season.
It’s more like the silence of a starless night.
It has edges,
that hold me safely.
Not allowing me to step into busy thought.

I have been placing more focus on wordlessness rather than words. It’s a beautiful space of mindfulness that must be cultivated. It’s a place of observation but also of direct experience.

For example, this week I came upon a hawk during a walk. I sat down at the base of the lamp post it perched upon and we stared at each other for fifteen amazing minutes. I didn't chat or narrate. I didn't want any words to come in between us and our experience.

When words break through the surface tension of silence, I’ve been cautious in choosing what I pay attention to. I do know the words that I am called to capture and share always rise up from this place of stillness. Nowhere else.

Step out of your house tonight before bed.
Into the origin of silence.
Where wind whistles.
Animals may call.
Where we are reminded of the ground of silence we were born into.
Without words, yet whole.

Blessings,
Amy

Photo Source: Potential Project

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So you are back at it? It's Okay.

1/19/2017

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I’m straddling life right now. Are you? Anticipating the changing of the guards. Two weeks into a new year that sets expectations that things will be different. That I should be different. Not wanting to own any big changes within me. Not wanting the changes happening out there. Feeling like I should rise up more than ever before, while I’m typing this from the comfort of my bed.

Yes, I’m psychologically straddling forward movement while digging in my heels.

My thirteen year old approached me on January 2 and said, “Mom, we never talked about New Year’s resolutions.” I must admit I consciously chose not to have this typical January conversation. Maybe it was because I’ve lost interest in setting them based on my track record. Maybe it’s because New Year’s resolutions seem to take on a different degree of importance given the backdrop of world events. It’s no longer enough to want to exercise more. I feel I should be setting loftier goals.

I love what my daughter chose for herself, “I’m going to do me. And I think you should do you, Mom.”

What a powerful idea! To focus on being your most authentic best self. Is there any better goal for the year?

So, if I take on her friendly challenge to "Do Me" then the next question is, what exactly is my most authentic self? Does authentic mean the part of ourselves that never changes? When I shine the spotlight on myself, the parts of me that come most quickly into focus have the most repetitive narrative. They are the soft part of myself that I constantly feel the need to shape and get right.

In order to "Do Me", I first have to embrace this part and polish it until it shines. I need to hold up my whimsical, nonlinear, no-revenue-making, teary-eyed, chasing inspiration, around-in-circles, self and take Kamal Ravikant’s advice to, “Love myself like my life depended on it.”

So let me ask you; can you fully own, love, even cherish the parts of yourself that seem to go around in circles? The parts of yourself that don’t change? Is it possible that these parts are supposed to be a constant because they are your authentic core?

I’m reading a fascinating book, The Fourth Turning, in which historians explain the three structures of time that have evolved, starting with Chaos, where there is no rhyme or reason to events. This quickly shifted to a Cyclical concept of time where humanity learned patterns of seasons, nature, and life cycles. In this structure, there was an honoring of past ancestors and future generations and an awareness that our lives play a part of a bigger collective journey. With the advent of industry modern man has moved into a Linear model of time where we over-focus on achievement and short-term individual betterment at the detriment of caring for the whole. It’s an interesting way to think about our own beliefs that self-improvement is necessary to be able to plot “growth” along a timeline.

What if we enter 2017 with a sense of deepening ourselves rather than changing ourselves? What if we “go back at it”, letting our sameness generate a sense of peace and wholeness, rather than resignation or frustration? If "You Do You” and “I Do Me" well then we are adding to the collective gifts of this world without having to be everything. Our cycle on this earth will bear great harvest.

This year I will love the softest parts of myself. I will tend to this love with greater commitment. I will deepen my practice of self-compassion and self-knowledge in order to grow strong in my heart. This will propel me forward in all the ways I can contribute the most from my authentic core . . . in ways that the world needs most.

My heart will find a voice. My heart will find the time. My heart will find the courage. My heart will find the feet to turn thoughts into action. This action will come from the inside out: not from setting a pre-defined goal, but instead from living moment by moment with a sense of my place in this world.

From the words of Mary Oliver, “You too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”

Blessings,
Amy

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Withholding Magnificence

12/14/2015

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Borghese Gallery

Azzedine Alaia’s couture gown

Magnificence is a rarely used word. Reserved for bigger than life. A display of greatness, or rather grandness, that doesn’t really fit in daily life.

Unless you travel to Rome; a city of magnificence. I recently spent time there. The pure talent of Renaissance art and sculpture that took years, sometimes hundreds of years to complete, mixed with brilliant ancient Roman architecture that still stands, layered with modern day carefully crafted cuisine and design . . . I was in awe. Each corner I turned had a small tucked away church that within, exploded with fine details.

I happened to grab one of the last days of an incredible exhibit of Azzedine Alaia’s couture gowns in the Borghese Gallery. My eyes didn’t know where to land between the carved talent of Bernini’s sculptures, the layers of gilded art covering every inch of the walls and ceilings, and the surprising creative design of Alaia's gowns in the foreground. One dress even incorporated the hide of an alligator. The stunning gowns acted like the coffee beans you sniff in between sips at wine tastings, when your senses become numb from too much consumption.

It’s hard to come home after a trip like this. My house sure isn't the Sistine Chapel. I can however gaze out of my bedroom window and see a nightly barrage of stunning sunsets that happen this time of year. Nature is a beautiful reminder that there is an innate quality to magnificence. That it may be more accessible than we think. That it comes in all shapes and sizes.

I recently attended a conference on Well-being and Mindfulness at Work. Dr.Jeremy Hunter from the Peter F. Drucker Graduate School of Management spoke about the Japanese culture, having so little, that they developed highly attuned attention to detail and created beauty within their simple lives. Think about the transformation of a piece of paper into origami.

I am starting to realize that magnificence can be small. I don’t need to reserve the word for grandeur, but planting the seeds of magnificence requires my attention and a time commitment that I’m often not willing to give. So, I withhold. I don’t allow myself enough of a horizon for the projects, ideas, or new layers of me that hold the most creative energy.

Magnificence is about creation. Not the mass produced, just-in-time kind of creation of our modern society. Magnificence requires a slower pace: the pace of the artisans who said yes to hand painting detailed frescoes on ceilings. The Maker Movement is re-establishing slow, where tinkering has a formal role and where taking the time to Do It Yourself is valued.

I was listening to the tail end of an NPR interview of a masterful musician (I wish I caught his name). He was asked if he had any advice to share with aspiring musicians. I loved his final words, “Be patient. The world is on God’s time, not yours.”

Magnificence is waiting in the wings. It is waiting for you to attune your focus . . . to rework, to relayer, to come back to the drawing board time and time again. And to know that you are not behind. You are magnificence in the making.

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If I Let My Life Happen

10/4/2015

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We gave my nephew a butterfly kit for his fifth birthday. It’s a bittersweet present. You watch your tiny larvae hatch, grow into caterpillars, go through a miraculous transformation, take their first flight, and then you have a choice. Do you let them fly and be free, or do you keep them in their cage, have them longer and ultimately watch them die?

When they were young, my daughters decided to keep their butterflies, and feel the heartache of each life ending. My nephew let all but one be free. And then deeply experienced the pain from his decision.

These little creatures have very little time on this earth: some species live a week or two; some a year if they are lucky to survive the increasingly difficult migration. It’s a poignant decision for a child to make, knowing that free butterflies live longer than captured ones.

Don’t we all? Yes, we should live as freely as we can. We need to feel the fleeting nature of our own lives; not to despair, but to generate the courage to leave our cage and fly.

I recently attended a writer’s workshop, and was given the prompt: If I let my life happen . . .

I couldn’t help but think of butterflies.

If I Let My Life Happen . . .
There is a butterfly on my shoulder. Its wings open and close in my ear. I don’t dare move. Yet, it’s not taking flight. It stays with me up and down the stairs. Not feeling captured or busy but entertained by my running.

Sunshine is a window away. It knows its direction but won’t go without me. So he is patient. And I hurriedly finish my work, shortening my list of to do’s enough to fly along.

We touch each piece of God’s beauty that offers nectar. Feeling into the currents of warm air that take me higher. No guide needed. Density below, warmth on my wings, and gratitude in my heart. I take flight before life is over. It’s fleeting but not too short. No sorrows. No words. No song. No need to despair.

The dust of color from my wings has worn off from full-contact living. My antennas are slowly losing sensation. My mouth is dry but smiling. My flight is sporadic. I fall away.

I fall.
I fly.
Is there a difference?
Direction is subjective.
I have spread my wings.
My life is whole.

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Showing Up

9/15/2015

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Darkness had settled in for the night and the desert temperature was falling. It was my first time at Burning Man, a festival devoted to acts of gift giving, self expression and community that is “too hard to describe”. After repeatedly hearing, ”You just have to experience it”, I decided it was time.

One night my husband and I found ourselves overwhelmed by the sensory explosion. There were no longer any visible paths to the mile-wide center, known as the Playa. We had to lift our bicycles over our heads and step through the sea of bikes that appeared, chasing the big name DJ line up. We heard there was a Tiki Bar at the fence, the outermost barrier of Burning Man's temporary city. So we put on our goggles and started to peddle into the darkness, away from the carnival of lights and sounds.

There are no markings in the desert at night. It’s an incredibly freeing experience to bike as fast and as far as you want, knowing the small fence will protect you from the desire to peddle forever. My hands started to chill against the handle bars; still no sign of our destination.

Then a small glowing light came into view. After another ten minutes we found ourselves standing at a booth just large enough for the bartender to sit on a cooler.

“Welcome to the Dusty Pineapple. We like to say the drinks are average but the music’s great; however, I’m having some trouble with the music,” the bartender explained as he wiggled the wires producing sporadic sound.

We were welcomed with a hug and handed a half-filled cup of rum and warm coke. We were delighted! His welcome was elixir enough. The bartender, affectionately named Dad, was the leader of a small camp of people who come in from all over the country to man the Tiki Bar. This year he didn’t think he could make it, but decided he had to show up, so he boarded a plane from South America.

Dad settled back onto his perch, “I’m so humbled that you came out here. Usually if eight people come it’s a good night!”

And there he sat . . . in the vast darkness . . . waiting with a gift . . . for those who show up.

A huge wave of gratitude came over me. Biking the miles home, tears chilled my cheeks as I thought about the lesson I had received.

We wake up every morning and go to bed each night. In between there is a vast space of hours that is ours whether we show up or not. Showing up isn’t easy. It takes energy and commitment. It means not shrinking when we bump up against discomfort; connecting again and again with our inherent value so that we share the best part of ourselves with others; and it means trusting enough to loosen our grip so that the gravity of life’s flow can pull us in the direction we are meant to follow.

There are a lot of ways to experience Burning Man. For me, it was the surprising, magical way people showed up for each other in this self proclaimed “do-ocracy” that makes this grand heart-centered experiment worth the drive, the dust, the noise and the heat. I want to continue to explore open hearted living. Want to join me?

Leave your emotional armor at the gate.

Replace judgement with hugs.

Trust that others have your back.

Tune into the single experience we all share on this earth.

And then show up for others in the most generous, tender, wondrous way you can.

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When There's Nowhere Else to Go

8/9/2015

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Source: Amy Tirion, Santorini, Greece

We are a forward moving and thinking culture. We’ve been conditioned to have a plan in our pocket at all times; our eye on the horizon and a known path to get there. The idea of having nowhere else to go can conjure up images of a dead end, being trapped or stagnant. Why does lack of forward movement feel unsettling or unnatural? Is it possible to gaze at the horizon with all of its promise without needing to chase it?

My family just had a beautiful exercise in planning ahead and being completely present simultaneously. We recently returned from our first European vacation. I wistfully observed us as a family and wished we could always operate in this balanced state of valuing each day.

One afternoon as we boarded a ferry in Greece, my younger daughter asked, “How long is the ferry ride?”

I answered, “Three hours,” expecting a moan of frustration when she learned what was between her and the next destination.

To my surprise she replied, “Oh good! I just love to just sit and do nothing.” At that point we had nowhere else to go, yet we were still on our journey. She has always been one of my greatest teachers.

When we arrived in Santorini, we found one of the most magical places on earth. Do add it to your bucket list! This crescent shaped Greek island was born from a gigantic volcanic eruption that left only a massive rim jetting up from the sea. As you climb from the port to the highest tips of the towns, you ascend into the clouds. We stepped through the gate of our hotel, and immediately were on the cliff’s edge. We felt this dense peace, looked down at the silent sparkling sea miles below, and for a brief moment believed we were in heaven.

Heaven has varied and arguable definitions, but in Santorini, it’s undeniable. You have to catch your breath. It’s the inhale you forgot to take when your eyes first cast out onto the expansive horizon far below against the sheer cliffs ripped into indescribable form.

You quiet to whispers. And your brain . . . well, it rests. There is nowhere else to go.

For two sweet days we experienced this pure peace that entered into our cells, creating expansiveness within us as infinite as our view.

I'm back now, without the view, but with new resolve to hold my gaze. Summer has these moments for each of us: time in the sweetness of nature; in a vacation destination never seen before, or in a well-loved familiar spot to soak in the long sunlit days. Daily life is also full of points in time when we are meant to sit still in between destinations. May you find heaven in these moments. May they teach you how to live in peace, being fully present, without striving or planning. May you feel whole and know that you can rest . . . you have arrived . . . that there is no where else to go.

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When you Admire Up Close

5/2/2015

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Artist: LeeAnn Brook

Have you noticed how often you admire from afar? Someone’s shoes, home, smile, kindness, parenting, courage, intelligence, accomplishments, intuition, talent . . . It can show up in shades of pure awe to downright jealousy. Admiration is an energy. It bubbles up inside of us so quickly that I believe its source is not in your head, but rather somewhere in between your heart and your gut.

Our gut holds the mixed-up emotions. “I want to be this too.” Comparison. Withholding. Competition. Scarcity.

Our heart shows up pure. Inspired. Grateful to experience the other and learn from them. Curious how they embody what they do. Delighted in what you see. Desirous . . . yes. But mudita is at the core of heart centered admiration.

Mudita is Sanskrit word for unselfish joy. This beautiful Buddhist practice is cultivated when we can experience another’s happiness and blessings without envy. Its foundation lies in our ability to see the abundance of life’s blessings, regardless of whether they shower us or others.

This can feel like an unnatural place to land when we’ve been conditioned to believe in the scarcity of a hyper-competitive world. I have two suggestions to find mudita.

Last night my meditation teacher shared his grounded response to whatever life delivers, “Right now, this is perfect.” If that is a hard sentence to form, try “imperfectly perfect”. It’s a trusting, neutral place to receive our present moment and those of others in their own journeys.

And then there is the opportunity to admire up close, rather than from afar. The more distance there is between you and your admiration, the more space there is for your gut and head to get involved. A few examples: when you are eyeing up a woman’s shoes, give her a compliment; pay attention to the ease with which co-worker accomplishes a task and tell him; when you observe a friend starting a new chapter in life, articulate what inspires you about their momentum.

Recently I received an email about an art exhibit. The artist’s work drew me in so deeply I decided to reach out and let her know. And here’s where the beauty of mudita unfolds. We talked, connected, and became inspired to offer a class together! Life blossomed.

Withheld admiration is not just wasted energy, it’s life force stopped in its tracks. During this new spring season, tune in and let your heart deliver fresh energy to others by sharing all that you admire and love.

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Finding Harmony

1/17/2015

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We were about to head home. It had been a sweet excursion for my sister and me: a day of adventure and play at a full day yoga festival. It was one of those backdrops that made you feel free, happy, a bit younger, definitely more alive. After hours of yoga, good food, top-notch people watching and plenty of giggles we headed toward the exit signs but were pulled to a doorway releasing lovely music into the night air.

Inside we found an intimate setting of just a few folks sprawled out on a hodge podge of oriental rugs, sinking into the delicate guitar notes of a promising performance. Both musicians seemed to have that unspoken language that many siblings hold, that gave them a natural ebb and flow.

Right as we settled in they stopped abruptly, asked for an adjustment to one of the amplifiers, tried it out and started the song over.

Happy to hear it again, we listened with new familiarity, as the two women started to add lyrics. But again, it only took a few moments before the artists slowed to a stop and asked for more vocals and less on the guitars.

Jill and I decided, since the audience was small, that we should encourage them with our big smiles and head nods, to continue with the show. They sounded perfect to us.

But our laymen ears and enthusiastic swaying wasn’t enough. Again, they couldn’t get through the song. Both frustration and sympathy bubbled within me. Their lovely voices teased us. Even during their fine tuning, their harmony lifted the spirits in the room.

It started to feel like a late night skit. As we stood up to leave one of the artists spoke into the mic, “We are Ma Muse. Please come back at 9 for our concert!”

Unknowingly, we had showed up for their soundcheck session!

With a newly purchased CD and fresh laughter we listened to their beautiful harmony the whole way home.

Now there are two possible morals to this story. I will let you decide which one is for you.

For those feeling discord in life, harmony is an exercise of paying careful attention to both the highs and lows, the light and the dark. You cannot race to harmony. It is worth your time and scrutiny to find that sweet balance of notes that will bring you fulfillment and peace in life.

For the perfectionists, the world may be on the edge of its seat, waiting for you to stop your soundcheck and to share your voice, your talents, your contribution.

I'd love to know which ending you are drawn to. Enjoy sinking deep into harmony with Ma Muse.

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Happy New Year

1/1/2015

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It’s barely dawn. The local urban rooster has just ushered me into today. He was eager to start. Unlike most dark mornings, I am too. You can feel this weighty sliver of time. A fresh, open canvas lies before you. It’s a single day, that is just hours beyond what used to be our present . . . 2014. The number already feels stale. Our day to days have been neatly gathered into a bucket called Last Year so that we can step back and observe.

I had every intention of doing just that: reflecting on how I grew, where I’m still stuck, all my blessings, life’s markers. I gathered my coffee and journal and headed to sit by my Christmas tree (which also feels done). As I hunkered down into my couch, my eye caught a splash of vibrant purple outside my window.

A rogue tulip had barrelled out of its bulb and was reaching with all its might. It was out of the starting gates with such energy in its stillness. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was so sure of its direction. As I studied its jagged petals, energy grew within me too. I don’t need to reflect backwards today. I want to feel fully grounded in the space of today. I want to be purposeful with the direction of my fresh start.

I definitely have many desires, some new, many not. I have some exciting new ideas. I bet you do too! I wanted to share with you a new offering for this year, but today I’m going to just hold it, let it fully unfold, and gather the clarity and energy that comes with spaciousness and a fresh start.

Let’s channel our energies carefully. Let’s not race into the new year. Better yet, let today hold stillness. Let your intentions gather.

You don’t need to push or prioritize. Let your direction for the new year come through you. It will be natural energy, like a first morning stretch or a turn towards the sun.

No matter what time of day, if you missed your morning stretch, it's not too late.

Happy New Year!

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When Gift Lists Make You Cranky

12/21/2014

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“I don’t really need anything . . . and I really don’t feel like coming up with a list.” This was my answer to my mother’s sweet inquiry into my Christmas wishes. I hung up and felt a bit cranky and lame. On the one hand you could call me content. But I had a hankering to dig a little deeper, especially given the two page Christmas list I received from my four year old nephew. Some of my favorites were: spiderweb making machine to save people; food tray for bathtub in case I get hungry; rubber bands that can go round you and are white so you look like an egg; and a rocket that can launch to heaven.

During adulthood I seem to have narrowed this exercise to items that can be purchased, and preferably online with no shipping charges. No wonder the exercise is no fun! So I found a moment of quiet, took a deep breath, and asked the question slowly and seriously, “What do I really want this year?”

My answers felt great to write down. Try it!

To crawl in bed with a smile and peace.
To really know what my daughters are thinking and feeling.
To commit to a really big trip so I can relax and know I’m going to explore the world in due time.
To release old clothes that don’t make me feel fabulous.
To shower every morning with a day’s destination that brings me energy.
To meditate before making dinner so that I start the evening grounded and more energized.
To connect with new friends in a deeper way.
To do more playful things in San Francisco.
To paint with others that can teach and inspire me.
To make time to read.
To connect with my husband in ways that are meaningful to him.
To finish a project.
To mix it up.
To feel strong in my body.
To join a circle.
To laugh. A lot.

What I love most about this list is that I can actually it give it to others and with a little thought, they can give me gifts to make it come true! Now I’m excited for Christmas.

I hope you find a list that deeply excites you too! And that when you share it with others, the magic of giving and receiving this season unfolds in a brand new way.

Merry Christmas!
Amy

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Amy Tirion
About Me
Advocate for Stillness, Seeker of Inspiration, Playful Mom, Lover of Creativity, Still Learning, Believer in Women, Founder of Delight for the Soul

Check Out My New Book Knowing Beautiful:
A New Bedtime Story for Women

Becoming
This blog is an invitation to stop. Breathe. And tap into the part of you that craves more space, inspiration, and nurturing. It captures the writings from my Delight for the Soul Newsletter. They are personal moments of reflection, inspiration, and questioning that focus on Being rather than Doing. It's a direction we are all invited to go in, as we live deeply and do less. The more we focus on being, the more delighted we become . . . and the more becoming we are.

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